


Kindred Spirits

by shoebox_addict



Category: Anne with an E (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-04 16:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17901833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoebox_addict/pseuds/shoebox_addict
Summary: Anne with an E/Victorian!AURemus Lupin, tired of the bullying he receives at school in his small village, leaves to spend the summer with Alphard, the kindly uncle of his friend Andi. A fellow guest at Alphard's house captures Remus' heart and makes him realize he's not so alone.





	Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this got a bit out of hand, which is on brand for me, I suppose. Thank you to the person who submitted the "Anne with an E" prompt to this fest! When I binged the series last summer, I actually imagined Remus as Cole, because I guess I'm just that obsessed. This was so much fun to write, and I hope you enjoy it!

Remus Lupin’s socks were soaking wet. As he walked home, they made an unpleasant squishing sound inside his shoes. For the third time in as many years, Johnny Gallagher had thrown his sketchbook in the river near school, and Remus had had to wade into the water to try and salvage his work. Of course, nothing was salvageable. Remus couldn’t afford to work with any oil-based materials, so his work was washed away as soon as the sketchbook broke the river’s surface. Johnny didn’t know anything about different art supplies and materials; he simply wanted to cause Remus pain, and he knew this was a quick path to that end.

How many times, Remus thought, would he be taken advantage of in this way? Every year was the same -- he received a new sketchbook for his birthday, he spent the next couple of weeks filling it with new work, and then Johnny Gallagher stole it off him and tossed it into the river. This one yearly occurrence might be taken as a microcosm of Remus’ entire life. It had all begun when he first started school and, to mark the occasion, wore a wildflower in a buttonhole on his shirt. The boys at school had instantly explained to him how foolish that decision had been. From that day on, it seemed that everything Remus did earned him the ire of his male classmates. At this point, he wondered why he tried anything at all. 

The river babbled beside him as he walked home, as though it were trying to communicate with the parts of it that squished in his shoes. Though the river had ruined his artwork, he couldn’t seem to get angry at it. He knew it wasn’t to blame, it was simply a pawn in Johnny’s awful plans. Remus paused and sat down on a large rock at the river’s edge. Perhaps if he waited a moment, his socks would dry out and allow him to walk home in relative comfort. 

Winter was beginning to thaw, and the afternoons were frequently bathed in sunlight. On this particular afternoon, Remus could see the early signs of spring from where he sat, across the vast green fields that lay below a wide expanse of blue sky. There was still a chill in the air, though, which was making his wet feet even more of a nuisance. He looked forward to warmer days when he'd strip off his shoes and socks to voluntarily splash in the river. 

"Remus! Are you heading home?"

At the sound of a young girl's voice, Remus turned to find his friend Andi hurrying toward him along the riverbank. Her dark hair was expertly plaited, and she wore a cornflower blue dress. Remus waved and turned around to face her.

"Yes, I'm on my way," he said, and then held out his ruined sketchbook, which dripped water and ink onto the grass in front of him. 

Andi gasped and frowned. "He did it again? Would you like me to punch him in the nose?"

Remus smirked. "I would like that, but he's a fair bit bigger than you."

"Even so," said Andi. She took the sketchbook gingerly and waved it this way and that. When she caught sight of the ruined drawings, Andi made a wounded noise. "Is that drawing of Adelaide in here?"

"It was," he said.

Remus filled up his sketchbooks slowly, wanting each empty page to remain available for as long as possible. His parents could only afford a new one for his birthday, so he made each one last. As a result, he often forgot which sketches were in which books. Andi was right, though -- the drawing he'd done of her cat Adelaide, pawing at a bird far beyond her reach, had been in this book. He felt a twinge in his chest at the thought of all the other drawings he'd forgotten and were now lost. 

"What a rotten boy," said Andi, handing back the sketchbook. "Perhaps he'll grow out of it."

"I've long since given up on that solution." Remus laid the sketchbook beside him on the rock. "It's been seven years. If he was going to stop, I think he would have by now."

"Who knows?" said Andi, in the tone she always took when she was trying to cheer him up. "Maybe one day you'll be walking down the high street, run into him in front of the pub, and have a good laugh about all this."

"I highly doubt that."

Remus appreciated Andi's efforts, but she often had too rosy an outlook for his liking. He thought it far more likely that Johnny would grow up to be a bruiser and take his vague, unknown frustrations out on Remus in far more violent ways. The only real solution, he thought, was to go far, far away before that happened.

"Oh, by the way," said Andi, as though she'd been reading his thoughts. "I got a letter from Uncle Alphard last weekend."

Remus reckoned it probably wasn't normal to like someone else's uncle more than you liked most of your own family. Nevertheless, he adored Andi's Uncle Alphard, who happened to be a kindred spirit. The previous spring, when Johnny and his friends had pushed Remus into a nasty mud puddle on his walk home, Andi had approached him with a proposition. Her uncle was throwing a party that he threw every year, and Andi thought that Remus might fit in there. Remus wasn't sure what gave her that idea, seeing as he didn't seem to fit in anywhere, but he was willing to try. 

As soon as he'd arrived at Uncle Alphard's grand old house on Grimmauld Place in London, Remus had felt like a horribly inadequate friend. It was clear that Andi understood him far more than he understood her, and he vowed then and there to do better. The theme of the party (there was a new theme every year) was Shakespeare, and each attendee was dressed in a sartorial interpretation of their favorite play. Remus hadn't prepared, but there was a trunk of old costumes that he was encouraged to peruse. 

Remus spent the evening in a mixture of women's and men's clothing, worn specifically to look as though they were doing battle on his body. Everyone seemed to understand that he'd meant to portray the rivalry between the Capulets and the Montagues. Each new person he met was a new opportunity to play a guessing game and utilize his knowledge of literature. There didn't seem to be a single boring person at the party, and Remus enjoyed every conversation he had, but one person in particular captured his attention most acutely. 

There was a boy -- at least he thought it was a boy, but that hardly mattered at a party such as this -- about his age who was dressed all in black, with a mask covering the top half of his face. The boy had dark hair and striking gray eyes. After speaking with him, Remus learned he was dressed as Hamlet's grief. He seemed very serious until someone began playing the piano, at which point he'd grinned and pulled Remus onto the dance floor. 

That was when he knew that Uncle Alphard's party must surely be taking place in another universe, where society had gone topsy-turvy. If Remus' assumption was correct, and he had been dancing with a boy, it would have been seen as highly inappropriate anywhere outside that ballroom. As it was, no one batted an eye. In fact, Remus saw many men and women dancing with members of their own sex that evening. He saw a few of them doing more than dancing. The very idea made him blush, but it also gave him an odd sense of calm that he'd never experienced before. 

"Go on, then," said Remus. "What did your uncle say in his letter?"

"He wonders why you haven't written him yet," said Andi, smirking.

Remus ducked his head down and studied his fingernails. As he'd left the party that evening, to head for the train station and his boring regular life, Uncle Alphard winked at him and said he could write whenever he needed to talk. This invitation had crossed his mind several times since then, but he'd always felt too embarrassed to put pen to paper. 

"I didn't think he meant that," he said. "I'm sure he doesn't want me bothering him."

"Nonsense, he seemed to take a real shine to you," said Andi. "Anyway, he says you've got a standing invitation to all future Summer Balls. In fact, he even said you could visit for an entire summer if you liked."

That was too much to even wish for. Though it might have been a secret desire fostered deep in the embers of his soul, Remus would never have dared speak it aloud. He stayed quiet, not wanting to show how excited he was by this potential invitation. 

"I guess I should be getting home," he said, after a moment. 

Andi gave him an odd look, something between confusion and disappointment. She pulled a small scrap of paper out of her pocket and held it out to him. "Here's Uncle Alphard's address, if you feel like writing a letter."

"I might," said Remus, taking the paper. 

"He won't mind, really," Andi insisted, smiling at him. "See you tomorrow!"

Remus waved goodbye to Andi and slid the paper deep into his pocket. As he walked home he thought about what he might write to Uncle Alphard. It occurred to him that he might ask about the person he'd danced with, but that seemed like a folly. Learning the person's identity wouldn't mean they could know each other or even meet again. It had likely been a wealthy young Londoner who would want nothing to do with a boring boy from the country. Still, he might ask about the theme for this year's ball so that he could come more prepared.

In the last few moments before he entered his house, Remus savored the silence. As soon as he stepped inside, his world became noise -- his little sisters chasing each other around the kitchen table, his mother yelling for them to stop, his younger brother kicking his legs against the side of his cradle. It was all Remus could do to keep his head on straight. Through the cacophony, he caught the scent of banana bread cooling on the table. 

Just then, Remus' mother -- Hope -- caught sight of him. "What have you got there? You're leaving a puddle on the floor, dear."

Remus glanced down and saw a small puddle of water and ink near his feet. He hurriedly stepped back outside and set his sketchbook down on the grass.

"Sorry," he said. "My sketchbook fell in the river."

Hope narrowed her eyes and frowned slightly. Remus looked away, lest her stern gaze coerce him into telling the truth. Of course, the entire exchange was a farce. Hope knew that Johnny was the culprit, and Remus knew that she knew. In the hopes that his mother would not bring this to the other mothers in their town, Remus had never named Johnny. Hope seemed to know, though, and was keeping his secret for now.

"I wish you would just avoid that river," she said, though it was clear that she meant Remus should avoid Johnny.

"It's a bit difficult," said Remus. "I go to school, and the river is always there. I'm not sure how I could avoid it."

Hope shook her head. "Have some banana bread."

Remus wrapped a slice of the warm, fragrant bread in a napkin and slipped it into his pocket. Then he retrieved his sketchbook, swiped a flannel to prevent it from dripping on the floor, and hurried up to his bedroom. He was the only person in the house who had his own room; he knew what a privilege this was and sought to do whatever he could to keep it. The pleasure he took in shutting the bedroom door and at least muffling the noise outside could not be overstated. It was his solace, it was his sanctuary.

At his small desk, Remus ate the banana bread with one hand and flipped through his sketchbook with the other. Now the wet pages were staining the flannel he'd spread underneath them, and Remus wondered how long his hard work would continue to leech from the paper, torturing him bit by bit. If the pages would just dry, perhaps Remus could properly enter his mourning period and decide what to do next. He was already dreading the days he'd have to spend without somewhere to pour his artistic thoughts.

Remus was considering which drawings he'd lost when he heard a soft knock on his door. He called out, "Yes?"

The door opened and Remus' father Lyall poked his head in with an apologetic smile. "Do you have a moment?"

"Sure," said Remus, shrugging and turning away from his desk. 

"I heard about your sketchbook," said Lyall, stepping inside and leaning against the door frame. "That blasted river."

"Indeed," said Remus, ruefully. 

"Maybe you can dry it out and use it again," Lyall suggested. "I'd get you a new one, but you know we can't afford it just now."

Remus nodded, wondering why Lyall had to qualify his excuse. It wasn't as though the family had fallen on hard times, they simply lived in hard times. The farm Lyall had inherited from his father was no longer profitable, and he was attempting to supplement his income by working at the butcher's in town. There was only so much work, though, and too many mouths to feed. 

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something," Lyall continued. "Your brother Ewan's getting quite big now."

Remus stayed quiet, though he knew what was coming. Couldn't his father at least wait until tomorrow to discuss this with him? He knew he'd just lost his sketchbook, why did he have to pile hurt upon hurt?

"We want to move him out of his cradle soon," said Lyall. "Now, I know this is going to be difficult for you, but it's time you shared your bedroom."

Remus took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers together. "Couldn't he share with Mfanwy and Bryn? Just for now? Just until I..."

He trailed off, but his father seemed to know what he was going to say. Though Remus hadn't discussed it with anyone, his parents seemed to know how badly he wanted to leave the village. They were always remarking on the lure of London and how it wasn't all that people dreamed it was. They talked about the crimes that took place there, and how awfully lonely it must be to live so far from one's family. 

"I never had my own room growing up," said Lyall. "You've been very lucky to have a space all your own for so many years, but the time has come to share."

"Yes, sir," said Remus, staring resolutely at his shoes. His socks were still a bit wet, and the dampness was driving him mad. 

"Good lad," said Lyall. He patted his son on the shoulder and left. 

Later that night, unable to sleep, Remus felt near the end of his rope. If he didn't have his own room, where would he ever find solace? His classmates would continue to torment him, and his home would continue to be as noisy as a church fete. Desperate to have something to look forward to, he began to formulate a way to salvage his sketchbook.

For the next couple of days, Remus left his sketchbook suspended from a bit of string he hung across one corner of his bedroom. If he was around, he would periodically ruffle the book's pages to encourage the drying process. When the paper was completely dry, Remus spent an hour or two flipping through to see if any of it could be repurposed. Some pages were completely ruined, while others displayed a rather interesting marbling effect where his watercolors and ink pen had run. On other pages, where he'd used a soft pencil to sketch, there was no trace at all of his previous work. This made his chest hurt, but Remus decided to look at it as an opportunity to start again. 

As soon as his sketchbook was ready to use again, Remus' parents moved a bed into his room for Ewan. It took some rearranging, but eventually they found a way to fit both beds as well as Remus' small desk and bureau. Though his parents declared it a success, Remus could plainly see that this was the end of the privacy he'd so treasured. On that first night, Ewan cried softly for several hours with Remus consoling him, trying to get him to sleep. When Ewan did fall asleep, he snored surprisingly loudly for a four-year-old child. 

The next day, bleary eyed and weary, Remus walked to Andi's house. She and her family lived nearer to town because of her father's position at the bank. Their house was a fair sight grander than Remus' as well, and Andi did not have to share her bedroom with anyone. Reminding himself that he shouldn't be jealous of his friend, Remus knocked on the door and asked if he could see Andi. 

Up in her room, Andi was brushing her hair. Her face lit up when she saw him, and she hurried to give him a hug. "I'm so glad to see you. You've been so quiet at school, and I was getting worried."

Remus shrugged. "I've been a bit down, I suppose. I was waiting for my sketchbook to dry out, but I think I can use it again now."

"Goodness, I'm honored that you'd come here to start your new batch of work," said Andi, and Remus could tell she was being sincere. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve a friend like her. 

"That's nice of you to say," he said. "But I just need a quiet place to get some work done. I'm sharing my room now, you see."

"Oh, no," said Andi. "Has Ewan outgrown his cradle?"

Remus nodded solemnly. "I always knew it was coming, and I know it's only fair, but honestly."

"A boy needs a place of his own," said Andi, quite serious. "Especially if that boy happens to be a brilliant artist."

"I wouldn't say brilliant."

"Well, I would," Andi insisted, in a way that told Remus she'd hear no arguments against it. "Anyway, you're welcome to work here for the whole day if you need to."

"Thank you," said Remus. "I'm glad to have you as a friend, and not just for your room. I suppose I'm lucky your parents like me as well."

Andi smirked at him. "You're the only boy I know who is quiet and polite. Besides, they think you're going to marry me one day."

Remus blushed and looked anywhere but at Andi. "You don't think that, do you?"

"Of course not," she said. "I know you're too fickle."

"That's...not it," said Remus. He didn't know what made him want to say it all of a sudden. Perhaps it was the stress of Johnny and Ewan and everything. Whatever the reason, suddenly the words were tumbling from his lips. "It's because I'm like those people, at Uncle Alphard's party."

The room was quiet for what felt like an eternity, and Remus held his breath, waiting for Andi to shout at him and order him to leave. But the shouting never came, and eventually he worked up the courage to look at her again. Andi was smiling kindly at him.

"I know, love," she said. "How could I not know?"

Without thinking, Remus threw his arms around Andi and hugged her tightly. Then he let her go and stepped back, mumbling about being tired and thanking her again for letting him use her room. Andi just laughed and put her arm around his shoulders. It felt so nice to have someone who understood him, and Remus wondered if this was how it would feel to spend a summer at Uncle Alphard's. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he banished it, not wanting to dwell on things he'd never get to experience. 

Andi let him sit at her desk, which stood by the curved window in her room, looking out on much of the town and surrounding fields. He'd spent several afternoons here in their time as friends. Andi would sit on her bed, reading books and sometimes writing stories of her own while he drew. Occasionally they would talk, but mostly they were quiet as they each did what they enjoyed most in the world. 

Today was much the same, and they paused only briefly when Andi's mother brought in some tea and sandwiches. As the sun began to set, Remus forced himself to sit back from the desk and examine what he'd done. His first page of the day was crude and undeveloped -- his practice page. But after that he'd managed a rather good landscape, some forest scenes, and a portrait of a young girl who bore more than a passing resemblance to Andi. Andi, of course, declared it a masterpiece.

Once they'd said their goodbyes, and Remus had thanked Andi's mother for tea, he hurried back to his noisy house. The day had cleared his head, and he felt more equipped to handle the customary clatter and his new shared room. Before he went to bed that evening, he studied the work he'd done and found that he was excited to start anew. 

The next day at school, before Remus even managed to make it inside the building, Johnny and his friends surrounded him. He was flustered, on guard for any blows they might throw his way. He didn't even notice that the sketchbook had been taken from his bag. He didn't know anything was amiss until he heard the splash and Johnny's horrid laugh.

All he could do was run. Remus ran into the woods until he couldn't run any longer, and when he collapsed in an exhausted heap, Andi caught up with him. 

"I'm so sorry," she said, as she wrapped her arms around him. "I hate those boys, I absolutely hate them."

Remus was surprised to find that he wasn't crying. He'd always used to cry when his belongings ended up in the river, but now he couldn't seem to. He wasn't sure, but he thought this might be a bad sign. 

"It'll be all right," said Andi, still hugging him. "You can come by my house again at the weekend, and we can spend all day working. I'll help you dry out the sketchbook. It'll be all right, you'll see."

Remus always appreciated Andi's optimism, but at that very moment he found it unbearable. Of course she could be optimistic; it wasn't her work that had been ruined. She'd never had to endure the relentless bullying that Remus experienced. He knew she really would help him fix the sketchbook, but what was the point? Remus was certain that Johnny would toss it in the river again. 

"I can't keep starting again," he said. "I don't have the strength for it."

"You're one of the strongest people I know," said Andi.

Remus sighed. "Perhaps I should give it up altogether. What's the point?"

Andi leaned back and looked at him, alarmed. "Remus, no. Listen to me. You are so talented, and you must keep drawing. I promise you, it'll get you somewhere someday."

Remus shook his head. "That's very nice of you to say, but I don't think it counts for anything here. I'll have to marry someone eventually, I suppose. Then I'll go to work in town. When I have children, there won't even be time to draw."

Andi stared at him, and she seemed to cycle through many emotions all at once -- fear, desperation, and finally determination. 

"I think you should write to Uncle Alphard," she said. "Write to him this instant."

Remus glanced around at the trees. "What, now?"

"Go home and write to him. Better yet, come to my house and we'll write the letter together. You need to get away from here."

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," said Remus. But Andi was already standing up, taking his hand, and dragging him up beside her. Without even a glance backward to the school day they were abandoning, Andi began marching toward her house with Remus in tow. 

By the time they reached Andi's house, Remus had convinced himself that this was, in fact, a viable option. He sat down at Andi's desk and began to write a letter, with Andi standing at his shoulder and making suggestions. Rather than mention all the nonsense with Johnny, Remus focused on how much he'd enjoyed the Summer Ball, and how he wanted to live in London someday. When the letter was finished, they each read it once all the way through and deemed it suitable. Remus couldn't bear to do the actual sealing and sending of the letter, so Andi took care of it for him. 

"I guess I'll have to spend more time with my sisters this summer," Andi teased.

"Don't, please," said Remus, chewing on his thumbnail. "Best not to mention it. It's out there now, we'll just wait and see what happens."

The next several weeks were some of the hardest Remus had ever had to endure. Andi told him that he would likely have an answer by the end of the month, and Remus marked off the days on a calendar he'd drawn in his sketchbook (now dried out for the second time). Anytime Johnny would taunt him, or one of Johnny's friends would steal the apple from his lunch, Remus would remind himself of the letter. He didn't want to put too much energy toward hoping, lest he jinx the entire affair, but he let it be a source of comfort for him. It was a distant maybe that could potentially come true. 

On a warm and pleasant Wednesday, as Remus made his way to school, he heard Andi shouting his name from somewhere down the road. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the final moment in which he could hope for something. Then he turned to find Andi sprinting toward him, a letter clutched in one hand. 

"This is it," she said, panting to catch her breath as she stopped beside him. "It arrived last night, but mother wouldn't let me deliver it. Shall we?"

Remus glanced around, mostly looking out for Johnny. A horrible vision of the letter floating on the surface of the river flashed before his eyes. "Let's find a better spot, somewhere quiet."

Remus followed the same path into the woods that he'd taken so blindly on the day they'd written the letter. He was outwardly calm, but his heart was thumping inside his chest as though he was running again. His mind felt scattered, trying to focus on the potential the letter held and the possibility that his dream might end here. 

"Here, this is perfect," said Andi, suddenly. She sat down on a tree stump and held the letter out to him. 

Remus stared at the letter, wiping his sweaty hands on the front of his trousers. "Have you read it?"

"Of course not," said Andi, looking scandalized. "I'd never read someone else's letter."

"Will you read it for me now? I'm giving you permission."

Andi pursed her lips and sighed. "Remus, what are you afraid of? I've told you that Uncle Alphard likes you. I'm certain that this letter carries good news."

"Yes, well." Remus closed his eyes for a moment to steel himself for whatever the letter held. Then, before he could think or scare himself anymore, he took the letter from Andi and carefully unsealed it. 

Uncle Alphard began his letter by saying how nice it was to hear from Remus after so many months. He expressed admiration for Remus' hastily constructed costume at the ball and said that he'd found him to be a creative, thoughtful young man. Remus skipped over all of this fairly quickly, partly because he wanted to get straight to the point, but partly because he hated being complimented. Soon he found a paragraph that began rather promisingly. 

_I'm so glad you sent your letter early in the season, when I am beginning to formulate this year's Ball. Alas, I do not yet know what the theme will be, but I will be sure to let you know as soon as I have determined it. You are, of course, invited to the Ball. Though it seems a bit silly to mention now because, indeed, I would be honored to have you stay with me for the entirety of the summer season..._

The letter continued on, insisting that Remus get permission from his parents and mentioning something about other house guests. Most of these details swam past Remus' eyes as he began to cry. All of the frustration and sadness that had remained pent up inside him when Johnny had destroyed his sketchbook again rose to the surface now. Andi leapt up from her tree stump and hugged him to her.

"I guess this means he said yes?" she said, laughing and crying at the same time. "I'm really going to miss you!"

"I'll miss you, too," said Remus, pulling back to give her a watery smile. "I can't believe I'm actually going. Thank you, thank you for all your help."

Andi brushed a tear from his cheek and smiled broadly. "Of course."

Once Remus had received such good news, going back to school seemed absurd. There were only a few weeks left in the term anyway. Instead, he and Andi roamed the woods, talking about how fashionable and exciting Remus' summer was going to be. Andi made him promise that he'd write weekly letters. Around noon, they unpacked their lunches and ate right there among nature. Remus took in the trees with a newfound appreciation now that he knew he'd be leaving them. 

As the afternoon wore on, and the end of the school day approached, Andi and Remus said their goodbyes. Though Remus knew they'd have time to say goodbye properly, this moment felt significant. It was the end of a special day they'd had together, and Remus couldn't think of anyone with whom he'd rather share this exciting news. 

"Maybe you can visit me in London," said Remus. "After all, he is your uncle."

"Certainly!" said Andi. "I'll come after a month or so, to witness your amazing transformation from country boy into city sophisticate."

As Remus walked home, he considered how he might best explain this to his parents. It was impossible to know how they might react, so he decided to simply tell the truth and see what happened. If they didn't think he should go, perhaps now was the time to speak openly about Johnny and his friends. 

Though he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible, Remus had to wait until after dinner to broach the subject. His father didn't return from his job in town until just before they sat down to eat, and Remus didn't want to discuss the matter in front of his siblings. Once the children had all gone to bed, Remus asked his parents if he could speak with them.

"Is everything all right?" his father asked.

"Erm, yes," said Remus. "Do you remember last summer, when I went to visit Andi's uncle in London?"

"Yes, it was some sort of ball," said Hope. This was the only time of day when she appeared relaxed. No one was bothering her, there was nothing to cook. 

"That's right," said Remus. "Well, I received a letter from him today, and he's invited me to visit him for the whole of this summer."

At the last minute, Remus decided to frame the whole situation as an invitation rather than something he'd sought out. For some reason, he felt that his parents might accept this more readily. If he told them he'd asked Uncle Alphard about the summer, they might inquire more about what was wrong or why he wanted to leave. 

"The whole summer?" said his father. "What for?"

"Well," said Remus, trying not to hesitate too much. Hesitation always gave away a lie. "At the ball, we discussed my drawing, and he was very impressed. He thought I might benefit from a summer in the city, visiting museums and meeting other artists."

Remus' mother and father exchanged a glance, but it was too brief to decipher. His mother leaned forward in her chair. "Why would this man invite you?"

"He helps lots of artists," said Remus. "Even if they aren't related to him."

This, at least, was true. At the ball, Remus had met several artists who named Uncle Alphard as their patron. He funded their work and sometimes gave them a place to stay while they developed their latest pieces. Remus studied his parents' faces and their dubious looks worried him. 

"We haven't talked about this with you," said his father. "But your mother and I don't think that art is a sensible occupation. After all, we want you to do well in life, and we couldn't bear the thought of you living in squalor somewhere in London whilst trying to be an artist."

No, they hadn't discussed this, but Remus knew it was how his parents felt. They were impressed when he showed them his drawings, but they never encouraged him to continue. He'd had a long time to cultivate his position on this matter, and he hadn't expected to use it so soon, but it seemed like the perfect time.

"I understand," he said. "I'm only fifteen, and this isn't something I want to do forever. I enjoy it, though, and I think it would be an educational. If I'm home all summer, I'll only be in the way. And it won't cost us anything, apart from the train ticket, which I can pay for myself."

This softened his parents' position, he could tell. When all else failed, mentioning the lack of cost usually worked. Remus stood before his parents, waiting patiently as they shared several more cryptic glances. He watched them carefully but was no closer to deciphering what those glances might mean. Finally, his mother gave a little shrug of her shoulders, and his father cleared his throat. 

"London is an exciting place, there's no denying that," he said. "It's especially enjoyable when one is young, and you may not have another opportunity to visit. So, we will allow you to go."

"Thank you," said Remus, beaming at them. He had to walk a thin line between overly enthusiastic and simperingly grateful. Though he wanted to throw his arms around each of them in turn and thank them profusely, he settled for an earnest smile and nod. 

The final weeks of the school term crawled by, and Remus spent much more time with Andi than with his textbooks. This seemed to lessen Johnny's interest in him as well, and Remus was always glad of that. At long last, the final day of school came and went, and Remus stood on the train platform with one battered suitcase, Andi, and his family. 

"Write me lots of letters," said Andi. 

"I'd appreciate one or two from you as well," said his mother, teasingly. 

"I'll write to everyone, don't worry," said Remus. "I'm sure I'll have plenty to tell you all."

There were many hugs, with his mother clutching him the tightest of all, and then Remus was stepping onto the train and finding his seat. The countryside flew past his window, and the enormity of what he was doing made his heart soar. He was headed into unfamiliar territory, yet it was a place he knew he would belong.

*******

Uncle Alphard's house was far larger than Remus remembered. A coach had been waiting for him at the train station -- a luxury he'd experienced only once before, when he'd come for the ball. It was dark by the time Remus arrived, which made it difficult to take in the sights of London. Even in the dark, though, there was no mistaking the size and grandeur of 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus stepped down from the coach and paused for a moment in front of the house, feeling inadequate with his battered suitcase and dingy clothing.

When Remus finally worked up the courage to knock on the front door, Uncle Alphard answered it himself. He wore a green velvet dressing gown atop an impressively tailored pair of pyjamas. His beard, which had been much longer the previous summer, was now trimmed close to his face. Remus was as surprised by the man's attire as he was by the fact that he answered his own door. 

"Good evening, m'boy," he said. "So glad to see that you've made it here safe and sound. Come in, please, come in."

Uncle Alphard ushered Remus into the house, which somehow felt even larger than its grand edifice. The foyer seemed as large as the entire first floor of his family's house. There was a lot to take in, but Remus barely had time for a glimpse when Uncle Alphard spread his arms wide and began speaking in a loud, booming voice. 

"Welcome to Number 12, Grimmauld Place," he began. "I am positively delighted and honored to have you as a guest. You seem the type to not readily accept complimentary language or flattery, but let me assure you that I truly am delighted to have you here. What I said in my letter was all true -- I was supremely impressed by your costume last summer, and I'm eager to see the artwork my niece tells me you've been working on since then."

"It's nothing much, really," said Remus. "I only do a bit of sketching."

"But my dear boy, everyone has to begin somewhere, do they not?" said Uncle Alphard, fixing him with a rather intimidating gaze. "Do you believe that the great sculptors created masterpieces from day one? Do you believe Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel after not one moment of practice?"

"Of course not," said Remus, who hardly thought he could be place in the same category as Michelangelo. 

"You're young," said Uncle Alphard, emphatically, as though it was something Remus didn't know about himself. "You have so much time ahead of you. You simply need to choose what you do with that time. I daresay you've made a good choice in coming here this summer."

At that very moment, with Uncle Alphard booming at him under the towering ceilings of the foyer, Remus wasn't so sure. But he simply nodded in the hopes that they could move on quickly from this conversation. 

"Now, this is the foyer," Uncle Alphard continued. He moved through the large area to a hallway on the right, so Remus followed him. "This will lead you to the parlor, the den, and the library. There is a staircase in the other direction that leads to the kitchen and cellar. Back behind those stairs is the ballroom and dining room, but we're going to head up those stairs right now."

Remus trailed behind Uncle Alphard, taking care not to step on the train of his dressing gown. The house and the information were all overwhelming, and Remus could feel a headache taking root at his left temple. But he was at the mercy of his host, so he made his way upstairs to a hallway lined with portraits. Uncle Alphard stopped at the top of the staircase, and Remus nearly ran straight into him. 

"As you may have gathered, the upstairs of the house is reserved for living spaces," said Uncle Alphard. "I try to keep one room empty at all times, in case someone comes to me in a time of unforeseen crisis. There are six rooms in total -- one is empty, one is for myself, one is for you, and one is for my nephew, who will be arriving next week. A lovely pair of artists -- Dorcas and Marlene -- are staying in that room, down there. The final room is for my dear friend, Albus Dumbledore, who happens to be traveling at the moment. As you can see, we're completely full for the summer season!"

Remus' mind reeled as Uncle Alphard rattled off his list of house guests. It was mind boggling that so many people could stay in one house without anyone sharing a room, aside from Dorcas and Marlene. Remus vaguely remembered being introduced to the two artists during the summer ball. They had come dressed as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and they were very enthusiastic dancers. He didn't recall Albus Dumbledore appearing at the ball, and he was sure he'd remember someone with such an interesting name. 

"Now, I daresay you'd like to crawl into your bed and never come out, eh?"

"I am a bit tired from the journey," said Remus, grateful that Uncle Alphard had noticed his fatigue. 

"Of course, of course, you're just over here, in room three." Uncle Alphard ushered him toward the appropriate door, which thankfully bore a small, painted number three, without which Remus was sure he'd enter someone else's room by accident. 

"Please, do whatever you need to in order to feel comfortable," said Uncle Alphard. "I've housed many eccentric artists in my time, so you can believe I've seen just about everything. Breakfast is served at nine o'clock, and that's where you'll meet Marlene and Dorcas. But if you miss it, the kitchen is always open to you, and I'm sure you'll run into your fellow guests at some point. Now, I bid you good night."

Without another word, Uncle Alphard swept the train of his dressing gown behind him and strode down the hall to his own bedroom. Remus watched him go as he considered all of the information he'd just been given. Trying not to think about what previous residents might have done to "feel comfortable" there, Remus stepped inside room number three.

The room was slightly larger than his room at home. The bed had a curtain hung all around it for privacy, and a handsome desk stood by the window. Remus thought he saw some art supplies arrayed on the desktop, but he was too tired to investigate further. He quickly changed into his pyjamas, which were much less extravagant than Uncle Alphard's, and climbed into bed. He was so exhausted that he slept straight through breakfast.

During the first week of his stay at Grimmauld Place, Remus became more comfortable with the house and its myriad occupants. On his second morning, he made it to breakfast on time and met Marlene and Dorcas. He spent that day exploring the house and taking note of each room. The library was well stocked, the den had lovely high windows that let in lots of light, and the kitchen seemed to have an endless supply of biscuits. The next day he woke up with an insatiable urge to draw, and so it was that he finally discovered the art supplies Uncle Alphard had left for him. 

In the center of the desk sat a pristine sketchbook with a sturdy, black leather cover. Remus' sketchbooks had always been on the simpler side -- coarse paper bound together with string. He felt almost reluctant to mar the new book with his drawings. But that reluctance faded when he saw the different tools lined up alongside the sketchbook. There were soft pencils, hard pencils, a fountain pen with a handsome green inlay, and inks in various colors. Overwhelmed by the choices suddenly afforded him, Remus chose a pencil that seemed similar to the type he'd always used and resolved to try the ink some other time. 

The den, with its high windows and abundance of light, proved perfect for drawing practice. Remus spent the entire afternoon there, sketching the room that surrounded him. He spent twenty replicating the detail on a tea set as best he could. So many of his sketches were based in nature, and now he wondered what he might draw in this new city. When Remus asked him, Uncle Alphard promised to show him around some of his favorite spots. 

By the following Monday morning, Remus had learned the layout of the grand house and established his daily routine. After breakfast, he spent some time at the desk in his room, looking out on the city street below and letting his mind wander. It was during this time that he often decided what he would work on that day. Then he went down to the den and chose a spot on the settee. He would sketch until lunch, eat something quickly, and then return to the den to work until the evening meal. No one questioned his routine, no one asked anything of him, and his sketchbook remained dry. In short, Remus could not have asked for more. 

That Monday, however, there appeared a sudden intrusion into his short-lived routine. He'd eaten his breakfast and was about to take his spot in the den, sketchbook and pencil in hand, when he noticed someone sitting in the foyer. At first he wondered whether this was a well-mannered thief, and whether he should alert a member of the house staff. Then he saw that the person was about his age, and a large trunk stood beside the chair where he was seated. Having avoided detection, Remus flattened himself against the side of the staircase and turned his head carefully so that he might spy on the mysterious boy. 

Remus had never seen anyone so sleek and polished. Back in the country, he'd been teased for his neat and tidy appearance, but he felt positively rumpled compared to this boy. His hair was jet black and parted severely to one side, though Remus could tell it was a bit long. If it hadn't been so molded with pomade, the hair might have fallen onto the boy's pale forehead. As Remus watched, the boy turned his head and caught his gaze. Mortified, Remus wanted to look away, but the boy winked at him and caught him off guard. Remus felt an odd stirring in his chest and turned to leave, but he came face to face with Uncle Alphard at the end of the hall. 

"Remus, wonderful," he said. "My nephew Sirius has arrived, and I wanted to introduce the two of you straight away."

Before he knew what was happening, Remus felt Uncle Alphard's hand on his shoulder, guiding him down the hall and back to the foyer. The mysterious boy -- Sirius -- stood and held out his gloved hand for Remus to shake. 

"Sirius Black," he said, nodding his head slightly. Remus didn't know what he would have done if the boy had bowed to him. 

"Remus Lupin," he responded, shaking the boy's hand. "I'm staying with your uncle this summer."

"I stay with him every summer," said Sirius. "I was excited to hear that he had a house guest who was my age. I'm sure we'll be fast friends."

Remus nodded, but he wasn't so sure. He expected that Sirius enjoyed riding horses at the weekend and shouting at his valet. Somehow his entire manner and appearance was grander than the house at Grimmauld Place, and Remus doubted that Sirius would want anything to do with him. Still, he reckoned he should make an effort. 

"Do you live in London, then?" he asked. 

"Yes, my family have a house very near here," said Sirius. "But they all go to Bath for the summer, which I find unbearably dull. So Uncle Alphard lets me stay with him."

Uncle Alphard smiled fondly at Sirius, and Remus wondered what the two could possibly have in common aside from a familial bond. He could never imagine Sirius waltzing around the house in a velvet dressing gown, and he certainly didn't seem as gregarious as his uncle. 

"Well, I've set up room four for you, as usual, m'boy," said Alphard. "Shall I call Tom and have him bring up your trunk?"

Sirius shook his head. "I can manage it if Remus gives me a hand."

"Oh, erm, of course," said Remus, startled by the sudden invitation.

"Right-o," said Alphard, winking at Sirius. "I'll leave you boys to it."

Sirius took hold of the trunk handle closest to him and nodded to Remus. Still a bit flustered, Remus grabbed the other handle and followed Sirius up the stairs. Though he seemed rather stiff, there was something to be admired in the way that Sirius carried himself. Remus studied the way he kept his posture straight, even while toting a heavy trunk. His top hat never wavered from its place atop his head. Aside from his neat appearance, Sirius had a bearing that Remus had never seen back home, and he wasn't sure whether it was due to money or living in London. 

When they reached the landing, Sirius steered them toward room number four and swung the door open. As soon as his trunk touched the floor, Sirius visibly relaxed. He removed his top hat and flung it across the room. A disarming grin came over his face, and Remus found himself grinning back. He wasn't sure what the joke was, but he was glad to be included in it. 

"Room number four," said Sirius, as though he was greeting the space. "It's simply splendid to be back."

Remus wasn't sure if he should stay, but Sirius hadn't dismissed him, so he hovered near the door. He watched as Sirius loosened his tie and shed his jacket, looking around the room as he did so. Remus tried not to stare at the impressive figure of Sirius in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves, but it was difficult because Sirius demanded one's attention. Finally, Sirius turned and smiled widely at him. 

"Thanks so much for your help with the trunk," he said, stepping toward him. "I meant what I said about us being friends, but first I need time to sort of, you know, decompress."

"Decompress...?" Remus trailed off, feeling tongue-tied as Sirius moved closer to him. 

"As you may have guessed from the gloves and top hat, my family is very, shall we say, buttoned up," said Sirius. "I come to Uncle Alphard's to cast all of that off, if only for three months out of the year. But I need some time to, erm, recalibrate my mind, so to speak."

Remus nodded, feeling very stupid. His neck was suddenly very hot, and he thought it might have something to do with the way Sirius' sharp gray eyes were trained on him. They seemed familiar, and he realized they were quite like Andi's eyes. But Andi had never made him feel this way. 

"Of course," he said, finding his voice at last. "I'll leave you alone, then."

"Thank you," said Sirius. As Remus stepped out of the doorway, Sirius moved to take his place, leaning against the frame. "Please don't think I'm being rude. Only if I don't decompress, I'll be no use to anyone."

"I understand," said Remus, though he was quite confused.

Sirius gave him a polite smile, nodded, and then shut the door to his room. Remus, wanting to leave him be, hurried away and returned to his routine of drawing in the den for the morning. But he spent much more time thinking about Sirius than he did getting any work done. Sirius took lunch and dinner in his room, and Remus couldn't help imagining what he might be doing. At the dinner table, Marlene had to ask him to pass the salt three times before he heard her. He apologized profusely, but she waved him off with a knowing smirk. 

As he turned in for the evening, Remus cast a wondering glance at the door to room number four. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but he found Sirius intriguing. He wanted to know more about his family, and why he needed to decompress or spend the summer at Uncle Alphard's. Given the time, he wanted to learn everything about him. He kept remembering the way Sirius had looked standing in his room in his waistcoat. 

Before he went to bed, Remus sat at the desk by the window of his room and sketched a rough portrait of Sirius. Though he'd seen him for all of twenty minutes that day, Remus found it very easy to commit his likeness to paper. Realizing that this meant he must have stared at him far too much, Remus felt his cheeks redden. He quickly closed the sketchbook and climbed into bed, trying not to think about the mysterious boy across the hall. 

The next morning, Sirius arrived at the breakfast table in a velvet dressing gown much like the one Alphard wore, except that his was midnight blue. Remus couldn't help but notice the way the dressing gown made Sirius' gray eyes shine brightly and quickly turned away. 

"You certainly seem rejuvenated this morning," said Alphard, pouring himself a cup of tea and passing the pot to his nephew. 

"I am well and truly ready for my summer to begin," said Sirius, with a grin. "I spent most of yesterday reading a stack of penny dreadfuls I've been saving up for months. Thank you, by the way, for having my meals sent up."

"Of course, m'boy," said Alphard. "What are your plans for today?"

"Well, I don't know," said Sirius. He took a crumpet from the plate in front of him and began spreading jam on it. "Remus, what are you up to today?"

Remus nearly choked on his tea. "Me? Well, I usually spend the morning in the den, drawing."

"The den," said Sirius, fondly. "Doesn't it have the best light? Would you mind if I joined you?"

"It wouldn't be very interesting," said Remus. "I'll just be sat there with my sketchbook, drawing and occasionally staring into space."

"Sounds riveting," said Sirius, grinning at him. "Come on, then, I've never seen an artist at work. Would it bother you to have me there?"

Remus shrugged. He wasn't sure which was stronger -- his desire to spend time with Sirius or his fear of embarrassing himself. Eventually his brain decided for him and he blurted out, "Not at all, you can come."

After breakfast, Remus hurried upstairs to retrieve his sketchbook and pencil. When he arrived in the den, Sirius was already there, lying on his back on the settee that Remus usually favored. Not wanting to be rude, Remus chose another spot. As soon as he was settled, Sirius snapped up from the settee and grinned at him. 

"Lord, you're quiet," he said. "I didn't hear you come in. I'm not in your way, am I?"

Remus shook his head. "You're fine where you are."

"Is that your sketchbook?" said Sirius.

Before Remus could respond, Sirius strode across the oriental rug and sat next to him. Remembering the sketch he'd drawn the night before, Remus held the book against his chest. "It's private, I'm afraid."

"Oh," said Sirius, leaning back. "I apologize, I didn't mean to be forward."

"It's all right, I just prefer to get to know someone before I show them my art," said Remus. Back home, this had largely been for protective purposes. When he was eleven, Remus had made the mistake of showing his sketchbook to a boy who turned out to be in Johnny Gallagher's group. That time, the pages had been torn from their binding rather than soaked in the river. 

"I understand," said Sirius. "We can get to know each other right now. You already know that my family are a bunch of stuck-up ninnies."

Remus just barely held back a laugh. "Yes, I remember you saying something to that effect."

"They're completely unbearable," Sirius continued. "These days, every impulse I have is one that would infuriate them, so I keep it all to myself. In three years, I can go to university or simply away, and then it won't be a problem any longer."

"What happens in three years?" 

"I come into my inheritance," said Sirius, grinning. "Everyone expects me to go to university, so perhaps I shall. But no one expects me to study the stage."

"You want to be an actor?" asked Remus, eyes wide.

Sirius shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps. I'm sure there are plenty of other pursuits that would scandalize my parents, and that's really all I want. How about you?"

"I'm trying not to scandalize my parents, I suppose," said Remus. "But I doubt they'd be very pleased if I told them I wanted to be an artist. So far I've said it's only a hobby."

Sirius nodded. "At least you can talk to them about it. If I said word one about running away with a theater company, everyone would look at me as though I had fish flying out of my ears."

This time Remus didn't bother holding back his laugh, and Sirius smiled triumphantly as though that was all he'd wanted to achieve for the day. It was such a different smile from the self-assured smirk or playful grin Remus had already seen him sport, and it made him blush for some reason. 

"So, where are you from?" said Sirius. He settled into the couch, one arm slung across the back and legs crossed toward Remus. 

"A village in Bristol," said Remus. "Quite near your dreaded Bath holiday."

Sirius groaned and rolled his eyes. "Don't get me started on Bath, please. But I'm sure your village is lovely and quaint."

Remus pursed his lips. "Parts of it, I suppose. I rather like your cousin Andi, for example."

"Ah, yes, Andi," said Sirius. "You know, she's one of the only people in my family whose presence I can stomach. Aside from Uncle Alphard, of course. It doesn't surprise me that you're friends. Has she seen your art?"

Remus smirked at him. "Yes. But I didn't show her anything until we'd known each other for a year."

"Oh, dear," said Sirius, frowning. "Well, I suppose that means we have a reason to see each other again in a year."

Remus' stomach flipped rather pleasantly, and he wasn't sure why. Truth be told, he already felt comfortable enough to show Sirius some of his sketches, but he wanted to make him work for it a bit more. Besides, what if Sirius found his art disappointing and didn't want to speak to him after seeing it? 

He needn't have worried. As soon as Sirius arrived at the house, he seemed to spend every moment with Remus. Aside from breakfast and dinner, when everyone ate together in the grand dining room, Remus and Sirius were with each other. Eventually Remus felt comfortable enough to draw in front of Sirius, so he would sketch in the mornings while Sirius lazed about with him in the den. They would take lunch in one of their bedrooms, where Sirius would often read to Remus from his penny dreadfuls. After dinner, when Remus was alone in his room, he would contemplate their conversations and wonder what value Sirius could possibly find in his company. 

One day, when they had finished their lunch in Remus' room, Sirius went to investigate the art supplies on the desk by the window. Remus watched him carefully, but Sirius merely trailed his fingers lightly along the leather cover of Remus' sketchbook. He didn't flip the book open or knock it off the desk in an attempt to see inside. Remus relaxed as he moved on to the small bottles of ink, but he tensed again as soon as Sirius spoke. 

"Don't you have any sketchbooks from home?" he asked. 

"Wh-what do you mean?" Remus stammered. 

Sirius turned around and leaned against the desk. "I mean, you said you've been drawing for years, right? Didn't you pack any of your old work for this trip?"

Remus reckoned he could lie fairly easily. He could say that he simply hadn't seen the need to bring his old work with him. He could say that this trip was about broadening his horizons and beginning his work anew. But he found himself caught in Sirius' earnest gaze, and suddenly he was telling the truth. 

"I don't have any of my old sketchbooks," he said. "I'm afraid they've all been destroyed in one way or another."

Sirius gaped at him. "I beg your pardon? Why on earth would you do that?"

"I'm not the one who destroyed the books," said Remus, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Some boys at school did it. They...they threw my sketchbooks in the river. Several times. One time they simply ripped out all the pages. In a rather strange incident, one of them smeared applesauce all over one of my favorite pieces. It was disgusting, but also sort of amusing?"

Remus chuckled to himself, and then glanced up to find Sirius staring at him in disbelief. Remus cleared his throat and sat up straight. "What's wrong?"

"That's...that's absolutely horrible," said Sirius. "How can you laugh about that? It sounds dreadful."

Remus shrugged. "If I don't laugh about it, I'll just be incredibly depressed."

"Nonsense," said Sirius. "You should get angry, you should get revenge. I've half a mind to buy a ticket to Bristol right now so I can punch some noses."

Remus blushed, rather surprised by Sirius' show of protectiveness. "I appreciate the sentiment, and I can certainly see how you and Andi are related, but I don't see any point in rising to their provocations."

Sirius sighed, shook his head, and came to sit next to Remus on the bed. "How long has this been going on?"

"Years," said Remus. "Since I started school. I have no idea why, but every boy at my school seems incensed by the fact that I enjoy drawing."

Sirius stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head again. "Absolute ratbags, the lot of them."

Remus smiled at him. "Does anyone bother you at school?"

"Who, me? No, of course not," said Sirius. Remus could tell he was trying very hard to sound nonchalant, but he wouldn't meet Remus' eye. 

"Gosh, you're lucky, then," said Remus. 

"It's got nothing to do with luck," said Sirius. Now he looked at Remus with a sardonic smirk on his face. "I simply pretend to be someone else."

"Oh," said Remus. He tried to think of something that might make Sirius feel better, but he was too surprised. "I'm sorry."

Sirius shrugged. "There's nothing for it, I'm afraid. Shall we go down to the den?"

Remus wanted to know more, but he didn't want to make Sirius uncomfortable. Between this and the fact that his family were apparently very proper, Remus could see why Sirius might relish these summers. As the afternoon wore on, Remus couldn't put the conversation out of his mind. All throughout dinner, he watched Sirius talk with his uncle and joke with Marlene and Dorcas. His manner was so easy and free, and so different from the stiff, polished boy Remus had first met in the foyer. This Sirius was so enjoyable to be around, and Remus couldn't imagine him remaining buttoned-up for an entire school term. 

After dinner, as they climbed the stairs to their rooms, Remus worked up the courage to say something. When they paused in front of Sirius' door, and Sirius turned to him with his sharp gaze, Remus nearly lost his nerve. But he swallowed his doubts and looked him straight in the eye. 

"I really am sorry that you have to put on an act at school," he said. "You seem like such a lovely person, and I can't see what you'd have to hide."

The barest hint of a blush bloomed on Sirius' pale cheeks and he looked down at his shoes. When he looked up again, Remus found it hard to hold his gaze. 

"You're kind, Remus," said Sirius. "I reckon you're also the braver one between us, going about with your sketchbook no matter how many times those boys destroy it."

Remus chuckled softly and shook his head. "I'm not brave. I never fight back."

"Ah, but it's not always about fighting back," said Sirius, smiling at him. "Sometimes it's just about living and being yourself despite them. I take back what I said before -- don't get angry at them. Just keep doing what you're doing."

"It doesn't really seem to be working."

"It will work with other people," said Sirius. "People who appreciate you."

Remus felt strange, almost feverish. Suddenly he wanted to reach out and touch Sirius' face, but he didn't know if he should. When he was twelve, he'd gotten close to a boy called Derek, who was new to school. Derek was more interested in his studies than any of the other boys. He was quiet, and he often spent lunch with Remus rather than with Johnny and the others. One day, when they were walking home from school, there had been a moment between them. Remus had misinterpreted things, and Derek was now friends with Johnny and the others. He often wondered if that one foolish moment had cost him a friend. He didn't want to lose Sirius' friendship the same way.

But something about Sirius felt different. Was it enough that Sirius also liked Uncle Alphard and perhaps had attended his summer ball? How could Remus know if it was safe to proceed, to follow his feelings? 

All at once, Remus was snapped out of his whirling thoughts when Sirius took his hand and looked up at him, smiling fondly. 

"I appreciate you," he said. "I'm glad you're here."

Remus' throat felt like it was closing up, and now he was certainly running a temperature. He hoped his hand wasn't sweaty. He was sure your hand shouldn't be sweaty when someone else was holding it. Not sure what to do, he shifted his hand slightly so it was clear that he wanted Sirius to be holding it.

"Thank you," he said, finally able to force words from his dry throat. 

Sirius gave his hand a squeeze, and then he pulled away. Remus felt the loss so acutely it frightened him. He smiled at Sirius, they said goodnight, and then Remus hurried to the safety and solitude of his bedroom. His heart was racing, his hands were definitely sweaty, and all he could think about was whether Sirius felt this way at that moment. 

That night Remus' mind reeled, cycling through all things Sirius. He considered all the wonderful things, of course, but soon his brain turned to doubts and misgivings. By Sirius' own admission, he pretended to be someone else while at school. What if the reverse was true? What if he'd been sent to his uncle's for the summer and was trying on a new identity while here? What if he was simply pulling Remus' leg, pretending to be interested in him and leading him on? What if it was all a joke? Perhaps he'd have his fun now, and then return to his schoolmates and laugh about the boy he'd met over the summer. Perhaps, at his own school, Sirius was like Johnny.

Remus' doubts kept him awake for most of the night, and soon sun was streaming into his bedroom and telling him to join the others for breakfast. As soon as he took his seat at the table and Sirius smiled at him, he felt better about everything. Sirius complimented Marlene's hair -- she'd piled it atop her head in a new configuration -- and asked his uncle what was happening in London that summer. When Alphard mentioned an exhibit at the Victoria and Albert Museum, Remus thought that Sirius winked at him. Remus didn't dare hope for a London outing with Sirius.

In the den they sat quietly, and Remus pretended to contemplate his new piece -- a study of the view outside his window. In reality, all he could think about was how close Sirius was sitting to him. Mere inches separated them from each other, and Remus wondered what might happen if he closed that distance. He was lost in these thoughts when Sirius spoke. 

"I hope what I did last night was all right, holding your hand like that," he said.

Remus was surprised that Sirius would mention it so bluntly. Could one talk about such things? Surely it was shocking enough that it had occurred.

"Yes, of course," he said. "I certainly didn't mind."

Sirius smiled. "I'm glad to hear it. One never knows, I suppose, if one is making the right move with the right person."

Remus nodded. "It can be difficult to tell how a person feels about you."

Sirius bit his lip, clearly contemplating something. "Can we be honest with each other, Remus?"

"I think we can," said Remus. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure Sirius could hear it. 

"I like you very much," said Sirius. He was trying to be nonchalant, but Remus could hear his voice shake as he forced out the words.

"I like you, too, Sirius," he replied. After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I like you in the way that I think you mean."

The words felt weighty, but Remus wanted to say them. It had been torture, staying up all night and wondering about Sirius' intentions. Better, he thought, to get everything out in the open. If Sirius was like Derek, it was better to learn it now, when the summer had only just begun. In the few seconds it took Sirius to respond, Remus had just enough time to doubt himself. 

"I'm so relieved to hear you say that," said Sirius, and Remus felt the weight of his declaration disappear. "As I say, one never knows. But then, I thought you must be like me, what with your running away from the countryside and coming to stay with Uncle Alphard."

"I hardly ran away," said Remus, smirking at him.

"Do you reckon this is why the boys at school torment you?"

Remus felt the smirk fall from his face. "I suppose. Is this why you hide at school?"

Sirius nodded. "Around my family as well. Hence passing up the delightful opportunity to spend months with them in Bath."

"I'm so sorry," said Remus. "May I ask...how could you tell?"

Sirius smiled and shrugged. "It was a sense, the feeling that we might be kindred spirits in some way."

"The boys at school must sense it as well, then," said Remus. "Perhaps I should try to hide, as you do."

"No, you mustn't, it's dreadful. And anyway, you made it here. That's what matters," said Sirius. He rested his hand on top of Remus' and edged a bit closer on the settee. "Uncle Alphard is accepting of all people, no matter what they believe or how they feel. I mean, you must have seen that for yourself at the ball last year."

"I could never have dreamed of anything like that ball," said Remus, smiling at the memory of it. "I didn't know people like that existed."

Sirius leaned closer to him, and Remus felt the back of his neck begin to sweat. "If there's one thing Uncle Alphard has taught me, it's that people like us exist everywhere. In a way, we were almost destined to find each other here."

Remus had seemingly lost the ability to speak. He wanted to respond, but no words came to mind. Sirius was so close now, and his sharp gray eyes were even more impressive at this intimate distance. Remus felt as though he'd been put under a spell, entranced by the possibility of Sirius and his beautiful black hair. The den was silent as Sirius' eyes slid shut and he tilted his head toward Remus. Remus mirrored his movements, and everything was perfect, until a loud noise came from the direction of the door.

Sirius flung himself backward as though Remus were a bomb that had just exploded. Remus glanced back, but there was no one there. He turned back to Sirius, who was breathing heavily as though he'd just run up a flight of stairs. Slowly, a smile took over his face and he began to laugh. Caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, Remus began laughing along with him. 

"I guess we'd better not," said Sirius, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "Not here, at least."

Remus could only nod as a jumble of emotions roiled inside his chest. He couldn't possibly work on his sketch now. His nervous, trembling fingers took up his pencil and drew nonsensical shapes across the next blank page in his sketchbook. In the guise of watching him draw in case anyone did come in, Sirius sat close and held his hand. It was a small consolation given what they'd almost done, but it calmed Remus in a way he'd never felt before. 

That afternoon, they took their lunch in Sirius' room. They ate cross-legged on Sirius' bed, on either side of a tray that Uncle Alphard's maid brought for them. When their plates held nothing but crumbs, they looked at each other and a secret signal seemed to pass between them. Sirius moved the tray to the floor and checked that the bedroom door was closed. Then he returned to the bed and sat so close to Remus that their knees were touching. That simple point of connection sent a frisson of energy through Remus, and he sat in anticipation of what was to come. 

Sirius moved first, reaching out to cup Remus' cheek. His hand was cool and smooth, and he moved his thumb back and forth gently along Remus' cheekbone. Sirius moved closer to him, and Remus could smell butter from the cheese toastie Sirius had had for lunch. It was about to happen, and Remus sent out a silent plea to the universe that no one interrupt them. For the first time in his life, the universe seemed to be in Remus' corner. 

With only a slight hesitation, Sirius leaned forward and pressed his lips against Remus'. A tremor shook Remus' entire being, and the one thing he knew for certain was that he wanted more. The moment ended far too quickly, and Sirius pulled back, looking a bit sheepish. 

"Was that all right?"

Remus let out a nervous chuckle. "Yes, of course it was."

Sirius grinned. "Would you like to do it again?"

"Yes, please."

This time, as Sirius leaned into him, Remus rested his hand on the back of his neck. He could feel that Sirius was just as sweaty as him, and it made him feel infinitely better to know that Sirius was nervous too. Neither of them knew quite what they were doing, so they moved slowly, gradually making bolder moves. When Remus opened his mouth a bit, he heard Sirius gasp and knew that this was the right move. When Sirius scraped his teeth gently along Remus' bottom lip, Remus felt a pleasant jolt in his stomach.

After a short while, Remus pulled away and leaned back onto the bed. Sirius, understanding immediately, followed and pressed close against him. They spent the afternoon there, lying together amongst Sirius' bedclothes, testing the waters of this new and exciting adventure. Blessedly, no one came looking for them. 

That evening, as he lay awake in bed, too restless to sleep, Remus remembered his promise of frequent letters for those still in Bristol. He supposed he would now have to make careful edits when writing about his time in London.

*******

_Three Weeks Later_

"I do envy the girls, you know," said Sirius. "They're able to walk arm in arm down the street and no one bats an eye. If you and I were to do that, well, I shudder to think what might happen."

Remus smiled. "I think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for at least an hour, don't you?"

Sirius shot him a look that clearly said he could not manage that. Remus shook his head and clasped his hands behind his back. Privately, he agreed with Sirius. Spending all their time in the welcoming environment of Uncle Alphard's house meant they never had to restrain themselves. Though they'd never said the words aloud, everyone in the house seemed to understand what had transpired between them. Remus supposed there was something in the way he and Sirius interacted now that gave it away. Whatever the reason, he was grateful that everyone had figured it out on their own. 

"The shop should be just up here on the left," said Sirius, pointing across the street. 

Remus nodded and followed him. They were looking for a shop Marlene had suggested to them -- a place that sold costumes of all sorts to some of the most prestigious theater troupes in London. When Remus heard this, he quietly told Sirius he likely couldn't afford anything the shop sold. Sirius had waved away his concern, stating that he had enough for both of them. Besides, he said, this was all for the summer ball, and no expense was too great. 

Just one week earlier, Uncle Alphard had announced that the theme of that year's ball would be royalty. His house guests were privy to this information three whole days before any of the other invitees. It was a rather broad category compared to the focus on Shakespeare from the previous year, but Remus was excited about the many possibilities for costumes. He and Sirius had spent several long afternoons discussing how they might coordinate their outfits, but they could not agree upon a suitable famous duo. That is, not until the appearance of the elusive guest for whom room six was meant -- Albus Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore -- as he liked to be called -- was a historian who traveled across Europe in pursuit of elusive tales. Most often, he sought stories of famous individuals whose romantic dalliances matched those of 12 Grimmauld Place's summer residents. He compiled these personal portraits into brief pamphlets that he sold at Uncle Alphard's yearly gathering. Dumbledore also seemed to labor under the belief that, one day, the public at large would want to know about these hidden lives. Remus thought this was awfully optimistic of him, but he admired the man's efforts. 

One afternoon, when Remus and Sirius' brainstorming had devolved into more horizontal pursuits, Dumbledore stumbled upon them by accident. Remus, having been introduced to the man once and very briefly, was mortified. Sirius, who knew Dumbledore from past summers, simply sat up and fixed his hair as best he could. 

"Goodness me," said Dumbledore, unflappable to a fault. "I seem to have disturbed something rather important."

"Hallo, Dumbledore," said Sirius, cheerily. "How are you this fine day? May I introduce you to Remus, my lover?"

Dumbledore bowed his head and said he'd already had the pleasure of meeting Remus. At least, Remus thought he said something to that effect. There was a strange buzzing in his ears, and he couldn't bring himself to meet the man's eye. 

"We...we were discussing possible costumes for the ball," said Remus, trying valiantly to steer the conversation in another direction. 

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "Are you having much luck?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Sirius. "I thought perhaps we could dress as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, but I honestly don't think my head could support a wig befitting her highness."

Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled mischievously. "I rather think I can help you lads. That is, if you will accept my counsel."

"Please," said Sirius, gesturing to the chaise across from the settee. Dumbledore sat and faced them, hands folded neatly in his lap. 

"I would like to suggest Philippe I, Duke of Orleans," he said. "His older brother, far more well known, was the Sun King. But I tend to think Philippe had a bit more fun with his life. He married, of course, as his royal status demanded, but he openly courted the affections of men. He was most closely attached to a man also named Philippe -- rather confusing, I know -- who was the Chevalier de Lorraine. You could dress however you wish as long as you have some historical facts stowed away."

"Philippe et Philippe," said Sirius, affecting a French accent. "What do you reckon?"

Remus, whose face had finally stopped burning with embarrassment, considered the suggestion only briefly. "I reckon it's a wonderful idea. Honestly, I don't think your uncle knew how difficult this theme would prove."

"Make no mistake," said Dumbledore, smiling once more. "Alphard knew exactly what he was doing. He always does."

So Remus and Sirius ventured into the wide world of London the very next day, armed with history from Albus Dumbledore and the address of a shop from Marlene McKinnon. The shop proved to be exactly what they needed -- there were waistcoats, petticoats, wigs, and all manner of grand costumes that were far more suited to the stage than a gathering that was bound to be rather warm. 

Remus was rifling through waistcoats in every imaginable color when he heard Sirius call to him from behind a rack of dresses. 

"Shall we wear masks?" he asked. "Something to suggest those hidden lives Dumbledore is always writing about? Or would that be too reminiscent of last year's ball?"

Remus paused, a bottle green waistcoat in his hand. "Last year? Were you at last year's ball?"

Sirius pushed aside a voluminous dress, the better to see Remus. "Yes. I told you, I come to stay with Uncle Alphard every year. What shall it be? Masks or no masks?"

To illustrate his point, Sirius held up a lacy black mask to his face. The delicate fabric framed his eyes and made them even lovelier than normal. Remus was struck with a sudden realization that made him drop the fine silk waistcoat. He hurried to pick it up and, once he was level with Sirius again, jabbed a finger at him. 

"I...I danced with you last year."

Sirius lowered the mask and gaped at him. "Are you quite serious?"

Remus chuckled. "No, you are. But yes, we danced, I'm sure of it."

Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed as he recalled last year's soiree, Sirius edged his way around the large dresses that separated them. He came to stand in front of Remus and peered at him. "What was your costume?"

"I was dressed as the rivalry between the Capulets and the Montagues," said Remus. "I was wearing -- oh, goodness!"

Sirius grabbed Remus by the shoulders so suddenly that he startled him out of his explanation. With a grin on his face, he said, "Yes, of course! How on earth did I not recognize you? My God, I'm a fool."

"Honestly," said Remus, bemused. "There's no need to apologize. I daresay my face isn't that memorable."

"Oh, but it is," Sirius insisted. He glanced around the shop before kissing Remus quickly. "I should have remembered you, I feel like such a dolt."

"Well, what about me?" said Remus, blushing from Sirius' show of affection. "Shouldn't I have remembered you? I mean, I did remember you, but I didn't know it was you. Does that make sense? All I knew was that I danced with someone who had lovely eyes and dark hair."

"My eyes are lovely, but my hair is not?" said Sirius, smirking at him. 

"There is such a thing as too much flattery," said Remus. 

"How dare you?" said Sirius, adopting a wounded expression. "You know perfectly well there is not enough flattery in the world for me."

"Yes, well," said Remus. "Perhaps I'd have more to say if you'd remembered me from the ball."

Sirius scoffed and, seeing no other way to punish him, pushed Remus into the many-layered abyss of dresses. Just as Remus was about to shout at him, Sirius followed him into the lace and silk and began kissing him. At that point, there really was no reason to be angry. As Remus lost himself in Sirius' ministrations, he realized he'd been nothing but happy for nearly a month. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. He supposed he would have to write a long letter to Andi that evening, thanking her profusely for insisting that he get in touch with her uncle, and for sending him to that ball in the first place. After all, as mad as it sounded, he would not be in Sirius' arms, in a costume shop in London without her. He would be forever in her debt.


End file.
